It was a dilapidated old room, with a worn wood floor and yellow walls antiqued by the years. A slight damp odor greeted us as we canvased the room, tossing out possibilities for how to setup for tonight's show. Ryan has a knack for this sort of thing and within 15 minutes we were busy moving tables, setting up lamps, and bringing in band equipment. The initial push finished, I sat down to work on a new poem that started in my mind during the drive up. I felt compelled to write a new piece for tonight's performance. I had been on and off tour with The Cobalt Season for the last month and they had set out a couple new tracks during that time. Seeing that creativity expressed I was inspired to put something new out; besides I was tired of doing the same material - it was time for something new.
As I sat in my chair to write I jotted down a few possible starting stanzas. Pen in my mouth, I read them back and let them rest on my soul. As they laid there I reflected on why I was writing, what was the impetus on this particular occasion that was compelling me? My eyes began wondering around the room as I watched the band setup. Ryan unraveling cords, Holly chasing their son Paxton around the room, Jared bringing in a few last pieces of equipment. These dear friends of mine were the reason I was writing - the relationship we shared, the adventures we had been on, the atmosphere of creativity they provided. All of these things created a safe, encouraging environment to express those words that were already weaved into my body.
As my gaze returned to my paper, the first line of my new poem immediately resonated in my eyes. Turning my notebook over,
I re-wrote that line and with a peaceful flow the words and pattern of the poem simply illuminated in my mind. All I needed to do was transcribe them on the paper before me. This was one of those moments where the divine life living inside of me surged with life and could not be contained - it had to be released.
Looking back on this experience, the reason for such creative expression is as a bright as the winter sun on a clear morning - community. Had it not been for my relationships with the people in the room that evening that poem would never have been written. They provided not only the inspiration, but also the space for it's emergence. In our creative lives community plays a vital role. Our long term ability to live artfully is directly related to the relationships we have in our lives. We all need the encouragement and safety of close relationships. Our tribes will inevitably pull things out of use we never knew existed. They have a way of awakening the voice within us that we simply cannot do on our own. As we bring this particular experience to a close, think about how the relationships even in this environment affected your creative voice. What did you learn through other people? What did they awaken within you? Do you have some relationships in your life that will help you continue this creative journey? What steps can you take to deepen those relationships? We all need a community around us to help us discover and refine our voice.
10 February 2009
RSS Feed
I realized my RSS feed wasn't showing images, so I updated the feed.
Here you go: http://feeds2.feedburner.com/daibewfeed
Here you go: http://feeds2.feedburner.com/daibewfeed
01 February 2009
shadows
Part of our Awakening Creativity class last week was to explore our shadows; those dark corners of our personality. We were to come in costume and character to have portraits made that will be incorporated in the Art Show on Feb 13th. Meet one of my shadows. A power hungry, maniacal, person obsessed with himself, money, and all the worldly pleasures. My brother dubbed him "Don Greasy"
27 January 2009
24 January 2009
Office Alternatives
for those not keen to the Microsoft gig and not overly impressed with Neo/Open Office check out Lotus Symphony.
Pretty sweet and a good price tag ($0).
Pretty sweet and a good price tag ($0).
23 January 2009
22 January 2009
confronting shadows
(this is not proof-read, so bare with me)
It's as if I looked into his eyes yesterday, not two years ago. And the conversation I had with Hal seems just as fresh. I was on my way home after a Sunday morning breakfast at Boogaloo's when I noticed Hal moving back and forth on the sidewalk in his wheelchair. It was one of those instances where just as soon as you notice someone conversation begins. I could see by his matted brilo salt and pepper hair that he'd been sleeping outside for at least the last few nights. No sooner did I ask how he was doing, than he was telling about his mother who was sick with cancer and reliving childhood memories with me. As he reached into his coat to pull out a pocket sized photo album I caught a glimpse of a frail body that no doubt had been through a lot. Hal spoke with a calm clarity on this particular morning and casually walked me through memory lane. His times of football as a child, his foray into jazz, and how his life had taken some turns that wound him living on the streets. It was here that his tone and demeanor took on a soulful intensity. Intently moving his head closer to mine, his brown tired eyes looking directly in mine, he instructed me “I've been to the dark places” He let those words sit there between us, allowing them to sink in before proceeding any further. With time frozen in this instance, he repeated himself “I've been to the dark places, seen the spirits there.” It's what his eyes told me, and what he didn't say that he really wanted me to understand. He had been there, and being revealed something to him. He went on to make it more explicit, explaining that what had been revealed in that darkness was indeed light.
I believe this is the case for all of us. We all have dark corners of ourselves that we carry with us. Sometimes they get the better of us, sometimes not, but mostly we ignore their existence. We're caught up in life, in to-do lists, and an over booked social life to pay them any attention. If only we would realize that through walking into our shadows we would find healing and light. Ranier Maria Rilke once wrote:
I love these lines. I believe they speak to a truth about becoming human. Namely, in moving into our darkness, or shadows we not only diffuse any power they have over us, but we also begin to understand the depth of our being. It's in this depth of being that we discover the strength to be with not only the light within but also the dark. Through confronting our shadows we open the door healing and begin to understand the importance of keeping them in the forefront.
There will inevitably be a shock when we first begin the work of looking into our darkness. However, once the initial surprise wears off we'll recognize that the pain we're feeling pails in comparison to the healing that follows. This is a vital component to living artfully. For when we hold the light in one hand and the dark in the other we can now “paint” about life from both directions. We are now able to more fully express the our human experience. In so doing, we demonstrate the freedom that comes from confronting our shadows.
It's as if I looked into his eyes yesterday, not two years ago. And the conversation I had with Hal seems just as fresh. I was on my way home after a Sunday morning breakfast at Boogaloo's when I noticed Hal moving back and forth on the sidewalk in his wheelchair. It was one of those instances where just as soon as you notice someone conversation begins. I could see by his matted brilo salt and pepper hair that he'd been sleeping outside for at least the last few nights. No sooner did I ask how he was doing, than he was telling about his mother who was sick with cancer and reliving childhood memories with me. As he reached into his coat to pull out a pocket sized photo album I caught a glimpse of a frail body that no doubt had been through a lot. Hal spoke with a calm clarity on this particular morning and casually walked me through memory lane. His times of football as a child, his foray into jazz, and how his life had taken some turns that wound him living on the streets. It was here that his tone and demeanor took on a soulful intensity. Intently moving his head closer to mine, his brown tired eyes looking directly in mine, he instructed me “I've been to the dark places” He let those words sit there between us, allowing them to sink in before proceeding any further. With time frozen in this instance, he repeated himself “I've been to the dark places, seen the spirits there.” It's what his eyes told me, and what he didn't say that he really wanted me to understand. He had been there, and being revealed something to him. He went on to make it more explicit, explaining that what had been revealed in that darkness was indeed light.
I believe this is the case for all of us. We all have dark corners of ourselves that we carry with us. Sometimes they get the better of us, sometimes not, but mostly we ignore their existence. We're caught up in life, in to-do lists, and an over booked social life to pay them any attention. If only we would realize that through walking into our shadows we would find healing and light. Ranier Maria Rilke once wrote:
I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood
Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that's wide and timeless.
So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living root
embrace:
a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood
Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that's wide and timeless.
So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living root
embrace:
a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.
I love these lines. I believe they speak to a truth about becoming human. Namely, in moving into our darkness, or shadows we not only diffuse any power they have over us, but we also begin to understand the depth of our being. It's in this depth of being that we discover the strength to be with not only the light within but also the dark. Through confronting our shadows we open the door healing and begin to understand the importance of keeping them in the forefront.
There will inevitably be a shock when we first begin the work of looking into our darkness. However, once the initial surprise wears off we'll recognize that the pain we're feeling pails in comparison to the healing that follows. This is a vital component to living artfully. For when we hold the light in one hand and the dark in the other we can now “paint” about life from both directions. We are now able to more fully express the our human experience. In so doing, we demonstrate the freedom that comes from confronting our shadows.
20 January 2009
11 January 2009
Identifying Context
Tomorrow night marks the beginning of ReIMAGINE's Awakening Creativity learning lab.
Here's snippet of some the curriculum I wrote for tomorrow nights session:
Identyfing Context
The 30 mph wind turned the cool air into a savage force set out to rob me of all my comfort as a human being. At 3 am the cold air is expected, but the howling wind was an unpleasant surprise from a fictional winter torture-land. This wasn't exactly what I was hoping for as the temperature setting for my first 50 mile ultra-marathon. I, and all the others racers for that matter, hoped the wind would die down and give our bodies a more enjoyable temperament to run our 50 miles. As it was, we were already going to ascend over 10,000 feet during those 50 miles so any help the weather could give, the better. And it did. The wind gave way at around 4:45 am, just before the start of the race. Fifteen minutes later the 196 of us ran into the morning black abyss; our paths lit only by our LED headlamps. The day and the miles passed like a tapestry of adventure tales and some 9 hours and 45 minutes later I finished what was one of my most enjoyable race experiences yet.
I'm often asked: "Why do it?" Usually that simple question is accompanied by some of the most puzzling facial expressions I've seen on a human face. Why indeed. I have many reasons that I've discovered along the way. However the quintessential reason is: it's inside of me. Long before I ran 50 miles for the first time there was a small whisper that said one day I want to run an ultra-marathon. All I did was listen to that voice and make intentional choices to ensure that it could come to fruition. It was the same for my first Ironman. I can remember, at 16, swimming across a lake with my brother and girlfriend at the time and commenting that one day I'd like to participate in an Ironman. Eight years later that utterance became a reality. I believe that within each of us there are small inclinations of things we would like to do. The execution of those small voices is what I call creative living.
Embracing the voice we have inside and allowing it to express itself is our creative life's work. Think through the implications of that statement. If you began to view life as your canvas and time your brush and paint, how would that reorient your view of living?
This is what I hear Jesus saying when he declares "Time's up! God's kingdom is here. Change your life and believe the Message." (MSG)
He is telling us, life is different than we imagined. God is present, active and wants to work through us to bring about the goodness of the Maker's vision. I see two things coming out this:
1) Recognizing the voice of God within us. Jesus is recorded as saying "the kingdom of God is within you." Part of our waking up to the reality of love is to cultivate that seed, that original Gensis vision within us. One of our tasks is allowing it to take root within our soul. Depending on where we are at in the process this could take years. We have wounds to get over, shadows to wrestle with, misconceptions to root out. We start that essential understanding though that there is a good voice within us leading forward.
2) Expressing the whispers of the Spirit. Once we recognize the Spirits movement within us we need to figure out a way to express it. God has granted each of us with an imagination for what our life could look like and how we could impact the world around us. Here is where creativity really begins to take shape. How we express the voice within is unique to us for two reasons: 1) someone with our DNA and personality has never heard God's voice before 2) the path we choose to express that voice noone will have done before. Even if it is similar in manifestation the creation process, which changes us and those around us, will be different and our sharing of that experience will be different.
These are the 3 great creative tasks at hand. 1) Figuring out ways to remove the layers of clutter and shadows that hinder us from hearing the voice of God and 2) Learning to see our own life, with our unique personality, family tree, gifts, time, geographic and sociographic place as a unique sacred gift, 3) developing ways to express the creativity that lies within.
Suddenly, now our life is a creative expression. We've discovered a voice within, began to understand it's origin, what skills it might take to express it and have started the process of expressing it. For instance, my experience of the world is very visceral. I had/have this sense that much of life is tied to how we live in our bodies. And I mean beyond eating right, and mild exercise. There's something found outside our limits. This started off as a hunch (imagination), and as I dove in deeper (cultivating skills) I was able to push myself further and further into the boundaries of bodily existence (expressing). This is one voice of the many voices I have inside that I've chosen to indulge. While many people consider it crazy, I do have conversations that allow me reveal the deep meaning and revelations I've had along the way. Trying to fit all the training in while running my consulting company, a non-profit organization and participating in a faith community has been a process and passion of mine.
Organizing our lives in order to express our complete selves takes a lot of time to work out and often a lot of creativity. This is the beautiful task of artful living. Forging new paths in life that allow us to express the image of God we carry is a creative endeavor that we must embark on.
This workshop is an introductory course to this very idea of artful living. We look forward to journey ahead.
Here's snippet of some the curriculum I wrote for tomorrow nights session:
Identyfing Context
The 30 mph wind turned the cool air into a savage force set out to rob me of all my comfort as a human being. At 3 am the cold air is expected, but the howling wind was an unpleasant surprise from a fictional winter torture-land. This wasn't exactly what I was hoping for as the temperature setting for my first 50 mile ultra-marathon. I, and all the others racers for that matter, hoped the wind would die down and give our bodies a more enjoyable temperament to run our 50 miles. As it was, we were already going to ascend over 10,000 feet during those 50 miles so any help the weather could give, the better. And it did. The wind gave way at around 4:45 am, just before the start of the race. Fifteen minutes later the 196 of us ran into the morning black abyss; our paths lit only by our LED headlamps. The day and the miles passed like a tapestry of adventure tales and some 9 hours and 45 minutes later I finished what was one of my most enjoyable race experiences yet.
I'm often asked: "Why do it?" Usually that simple question is accompanied by some of the most puzzling facial expressions I've seen on a human face. Why indeed. I have many reasons that I've discovered along the way. However the quintessential reason is: it's inside of me. Long before I ran 50 miles for the first time there was a small whisper that said one day I want to run an ultra-marathon. All I did was listen to that voice and make intentional choices to ensure that it could come to fruition. It was the same for my first Ironman. I can remember, at 16, swimming across a lake with my brother and girlfriend at the time and commenting that one day I'd like to participate in an Ironman. Eight years later that utterance became a reality. I believe that within each of us there are small inclinations of things we would like to do. The execution of those small voices is what I call creative living.
Embracing the voice we have inside and allowing it to express itself is our creative life's work. Think through the implications of that statement. If you began to view life as your canvas and time your brush and paint, how would that reorient your view of living?
This is what I hear Jesus saying when he declares "Time's up! God's kingdom is here. Change your life and believe the Message." (MSG)
He is telling us, life is different than we imagined. God is present, active and wants to work through us to bring about the goodness of the Maker's vision. I see two things coming out this:
1) Recognizing the voice of God within us. Jesus is recorded as saying "the kingdom of God is within you." Part of our waking up to the reality of love is to cultivate that seed, that original Gensis vision within us. One of our tasks is allowing it to take root within our soul. Depending on where we are at in the process this could take years. We have wounds to get over, shadows to wrestle with, misconceptions to root out. We start that essential understanding though that there is a good voice within us leading forward.
2) Expressing the whispers of the Spirit. Once we recognize the Spirits movement within us we need to figure out a way to express it. God has granted each of us with an imagination for what our life could look like and how we could impact the world around us. Here is where creativity really begins to take shape. How we express the voice within is unique to us for two reasons: 1) someone with our DNA and personality has never heard God's voice before 2) the path we choose to express that voice noone will have done before. Even if it is similar in manifestation the creation process, which changes us and those around us, will be different and our sharing of that experience will be different.
These are the 3 great creative tasks at hand. 1) Figuring out ways to remove the layers of clutter and shadows that hinder us from hearing the voice of God and 2) Learning to see our own life, with our unique personality, family tree, gifts, time, geographic and sociographic place as a unique sacred gift, 3) developing ways to express the creativity that lies within.
Suddenly, now our life is a creative expression. We've discovered a voice within, began to understand it's origin, what skills it might take to express it and have started the process of expressing it. For instance, my experience of the world is very visceral. I had/have this sense that much of life is tied to how we live in our bodies. And I mean beyond eating right, and mild exercise. There's something found outside our limits. This started off as a hunch (imagination), and as I dove in deeper (cultivating skills) I was able to push myself further and further into the boundaries of bodily existence (expressing). This is one voice of the many voices I have inside that I've chosen to indulge. While many people consider it crazy, I do have conversations that allow me reveal the deep meaning and revelations I've had along the way. Trying to fit all the training in while running my consulting company, a non-profit organization and participating in a faith community has been a process and passion of mine.
Organizing our lives in order to express our complete selves takes a lot of time to work out and often a lot of creativity. This is the beautiful task of artful living. Forging new paths in life that allow us to express the image of God we carry is a creative endeavor that we must embark on.
This workshop is an introductory course to this very idea of artful living. We look forward to journey ahead.
05 January 2009
Highlights
The last two weeks have been what the holiday season should be in my mind. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts, drinking amazing wine, buying amazing wine, eating homemade Italian food, celebrating birthdays (Dan, Holly, Aaron, & Andrew), experiencing family tension and shadows, making new friends, being lethargic, engaging in traditions and making new ones. Here's to 2009.
03 January 2009
PhD
I've been thinking lately about going back to school to get a PhD. Currently, I'm looking at programs in "organizational theory." I'm fascinated by big, complex systems with lost of dependencies and nuances and how they influence and are influenced by the individual. If you know of a program along these lines drop me a comment.......thanks!
21 December 2008
Poetry
It's been a while since I last a wrote a complete poem. I've got some scribbles down. In the meantime, in effort to become more skillful in my craft I've taken to reading some the well known poets of our time. Tonight I was reading E.E. Cummings and Joyce and ran across this pontification by James Joyce:
"Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt in a certain sense, against actuality. It speaks of that which seems unreal and fantastic to those who have lost the simple intuitions which are the tests of reality. Poetry considers many of the idols of the market place unimportant - the succession of the ages, the spirit of the age, the mission of the race. The poet's central effort it to free himself from the unfortunate influence of these idols that corrupt him from without and within...."
"Poetry, even when apparently most fantastic, is always a revolt against artifice, a revolt in a certain sense, against actuality. It speaks of that which seems unreal and fantastic to those who have lost the simple intuitions which are the tests of reality. Poetry considers many of the idols of the market place unimportant - the succession of the ages, the spirit of the age, the mission of the race. The poet's central effort it to free himself from the unfortunate influence of these idols that corrupt him from without and within...."
11 December 2008
The Aftermath
You wanna know something interesting about running 50 miles? The race is the easy part. On the front end you have day after day, week after week, month after month of running miles upon miles. Up to 120+ miles in one week at the peak. Then you start to rest, and all that fatigue that's been living in your body starts to rise to the surface. Bringing with it all sorts of irritable emotions. You finally start to feel better and it's race day. And what a glorious day it is indeed. All the hard work paying off, the excitement of seeing other crazy people running with you, and all those loyal loving friends and family who come out to watch. It's amazing. Then the race is over and you celebrate that night. The ensuing days after the race - those are just as brutal - if not more so than the preparation. You're digestive system is all out of whack. You're constantly hungry - or so it seems. Walking turns into shuffling around and walking stairs becomes like climbing a mountain with someone stabbing needles in your legs. This is only the physical aspect of recovery. Then there's the emotional side of things. It's like a mild case of postpartum depression. I remember this from my first endurance race and luckily now I recognize it for what it is, but it still isn't the funnest of times. Oh well, in time it'll all be good again.
09 December 2008
Race Updates
Sorry to those that suffered through reading the last post with all the missing & extra words.....my brain isn't functioning as well it should today. I've edited it, and hopefully it's a bit more readable. I checked the race results and it looks like I finished in about 46th (out of 170) place overall and 8th (out of 41) in my age group. Yes, admittedly I'm slightly competitive immediately following a race, but it will fade. For those that are curious, below is a chart of my heart rate, pace, and elevation over the 50 miles.
07 December 2008
Yesterday & 50 miles
Yesterday I ventured into uncharted territory as I ran my first 50 mile ultra-marathon, the North Face Endurance Challenge. The day started at 2:30 am as I rose to eat breakfast, gather the rest of my gear and drive over to the Marin Headlands for the race start. Driving over I had a sense of excitement rising inside of me, and at one point yelled out it the car "50 miles baby!!" Arriving in Marin the sky was black, sprinkled only with stars and no moon. The temperature was a mild 55 degrees, but the wind howled and whisked away any emanating body heat. There was a calm buzz in the air as the athletes drove in, parked, and made final preparations before boarding the shuttle to the race start. At the start we huddled around portable heaters to ward of the chill from the wind and I watched as the other athletes ran through their morning rituals. Some applying vaseline to their feet, last minute snacking, stretching and some other odd routines. Some had looks of eager anticipation and others a slight look of concentration and focus. One thing I enjoy about events of this nature is the ecclecticness of the group. The energy in the air says we've found something we enjoy and many people may not understand it, and that's okay. We enjoy it, it awakens something inside and we will follow that voice inspite of looking a bit odd. There were people of all shapes, sizes and genders getting ready.
Getting ready came to a close as the announcer called the 150+ racers to the start, gave final instructions and sent us off into the dark night for the beginning of what was to become a great adventure. We immediately starting a hill ascent, one of the dominant themes of the day. I was in the first 1/4 of runners and as I looked down the winding trail that hugged the side of the mountain, all I could see was a string of lights. Each runner with their headlamps illuminating their path as they weaved their way up the mountain. It was as if the stars were earth bound and were making their way back to the heavens. My own headlamp was, in the simplest terms - useless. I don't know if it was the batteries or the light itself but it did nothing to illuminate my path. So, I run upward in the dark. At one point thinking back the lights moving up the hill, I felt as if I was in Middle Earth and the Orks were marching there way to battle.
As dawn began to crest, I entered the coastal trail. The cliffs were shadows set against the sea that was beginning to glow. At one point there were two bluffs, the left hand side made an immediate drop down, the other a slow gradual drop. Nestled in between - a beach that crawled out to the ocean. Looking over the top of them, the lights of the city were being woken up by the dawn sky. Clouds stretched out like fingers, the hills of the city, being warmed by orange and fuchsia sky. One of the prettiest sunrises I've seen. I've heard it said that things worth something in life - you work for - and in this moment that saying took on all new meaning. I had been working for an hour and a half and my reward was one of the most stunning skylines I've seen in my short lifetime. At this point my imagination took me to Pirates of the Caribbean and I was on the look out for a Pirate ship to come up to the ocean cliffs.
Time was evaporating as my mind wandered, my legs began to ache, and the hills kept rolling. At some point it was mid-morning, I had been running for 4 hours and the day had just begun. The miles ticked past and before I knew I was at the mile 20 aid station. I stopped to have my camelback refilled, at some potato chips and proceeded into the 3rd environmental arena. The trees and plants shifted. There were overgrown ferns, and towering redwoods - now I was on the moon of Endor surrounded by Ewoks. The terrain was no less grueling. Rocks and roots jetted out of the dirt trail and each step took concentration. It was absolutely amazing. An adventure through the woods, never knowing what sight was around the next corner. It was a steep descent to the valley floor before an equally steep ascent back up and back to the aid station and mile 30. It was here that I would meetup with my friend Arthur who would run with me for the next 6 miles. It was great to have company. Before I knew it the 6 miles were up and we were at the next aid station where I would depart once again be on my own. Before I left the station, and elderly gentlemen who lived in town asked about the race, and when I told him of the distance and elevation profile he was dumbfounded - what?! why?! Ya, I said, I know, and not only that but I've paid to be here. :-)
The next four miles were through what was more like a jungle. Moss covered trees, with pretzel looking trunks, and thick plants lined the trail. It was after these 4 miles that I began to really feel the distance I'd covered. My inner thighs began to cramp, which is excruciatingly painful and I was forced to stop, breath deep for a moment and down 5 enduralyte pills, full of sodium and potassium in hopes that they would alleviate some of the cramping. It worked - for a mile or two, but cramping returned as I reached yet another insanely steep ascent. Everyone was forced to walk. At many of the ascents we were forced to walk. Some so steep that the trail had stairs so we could make our way up. Up, and up, the trail weaved, and I grew slightly tired. Finally at the top my energy rose and I could feel the end of the race in sight. On the downhills, and flats I could let my legs fly, and run. I was hopped up on caffeine and had taken enough motrin that I could ignore the pain. It was now mile 44, where I would meet my good friend Dan, who would run the remaining 6 miles with me. As soon as we left the aid station, we hit, yes another steep ascent. The race organizers weren't kidding when they rated this race the most challenging and gave it 5 out of 5 stars for elevation change. I was again reduced to walking up the immense hill. As we ran, I recounted the previous 8+ hours to Dan. Told him of the sure enjoyment of the day. My encounters with other runners, etc. Something happens to me on these adventures. I go completely outside myself, tell jokes, banter with other runners, and aid station staff, and generally have a blast. The last mile was up a gradual hill on asphalt which returned the cramping to my legs, but I pressed on and crossed the finish line some 9 hours and 45 minutes after starting.
What an amazing day. I felt euphoric. Tired, stiff but euphoric. My right hip was in agony. I made my way over the message/soft tissue therapy tent, where for the next 20 minutes a couple cute therapists began work on my hip. I just relaxed and enjoyed the treatment. Not a bad way to end the race.
After all this, it was time to get back to my flat. I had a party to get to ready host. In order to recoup quicker, Dan hooked me up with an IV of saline (see below); which was amazing. The party was fabulous, and other than some stomach issues I felt pretty good. By around 10pm I started to fade - the early morning combined with the race had taken it's toll and at 11pm I called it. Strange part was my body had a hard time relaxing as I laid in bed, but did finally fall sleep. Only to wake up at 3am some extreme hunger pain. So, up I got and made food.
I think I'll take it easy today.
Getting ready came to a close as the announcer called the 150+ racers to the start, gave final instructions and sent us off into the dark night for the beginning of what was to become a great adventure. We immediately starting a hill ascent, one of the dominant themes of the day. I was in the first 1/4 of runners and as I looked down the winding trail that hugged the side of the mountain, all I could see was a string of lights. Each runner with their headlamps illuminating their path as they weaved their way up the mountain. It was as if the stars were earth bound and were making their way back to the heavens. My own headlamp was, in the simplest terms - useless. I don't know if it was the batteries or the light itself but it did nothing to illuminate my path. So, I run upward in the dark. At one point thinking back the lights moving up the hill, I felt as if I was in Middle Earth and the Orks were marching there way to battle.
As dawn began to crest, I entered the coastal trail. The cliffs were shadows set against the sea that was beginning to glow. At one point there were two bluffs, the left hand side made an immediate drop down, the other a slow gradual drop. Nestled in between - a beach that crawled out to the ocean. Looking over the top of them, the lights of the city were being woken up by the dawn sky. Clouds stretched out like fingers, the hills of the city, being warmed by orange and fuchsia sky. One of the prettiest sunrises I've seen. I've heard it said that things worth something in life - you work for - and in this moment that saying took on all new meaning. I had been working for an hour and a half and my reward was one of the most stunning skylines I've seen in my short lifetime. At this point my imagination took me to Pirates of the Caribbean and I was on the look out for a Pirate ship to come up to the ocean cliffs.
Time was evaporating as my mind wandered, my legs began to ache, and the hills kept rolling. At some point it was mid-morning, I had been running for 4 hours and the day had just begun. The miles ticked past and before I knew I was at the mile 20 aid station. I stopped to have my camelback refilled, at some potato chips and proceeded into the 3rd environmental arena. The trees and plants shifted. There were overgrown ferns, and towering redwoods - now I was on the moon of Endor surrounded by Ewoks. The terrain was no less grueling. Rocks and roots jetted out of the dirt trail and each step took concentration. It was absolutely amazing. An adventure through the woods, never knowing what sight was around the next corner. It was a steep descent to the valley floor before an equally steep ascent back up and back to the aid station and mile 30. It was here that I would meetup with my friend Arthur who would run with me for the next 6 miles. It was great to have company. Before I knew it the 6 miles were up and we were at the next aid station where I would depart once again be on my own. Before I left the station, and elderly gentlemen who lived in town asked about the race, and when I told him of the distance and elevation profile he was dumbfounded - what?! why?! Ya, I said, I know, and not only that but I've paid to be here. :-)
The next four miles were through what was more like a jungle. Moss covered trees, with pretzel looking trunks, and thick plants lined the trail. It was after these 4 miles that I began to really feel the distance I'd covered. My inner thighs began to cramp, which is excruciatingly painful and I was forced to stop, breath deep for a moment and down 5 enduralyte pills, full of sodium and potassium in hopes that they would alleviate some of the cramping. It worked - for a mile or two, but cramping returned as I reached yet another insanely steep ascent. Everyone was forced to walk. At many of the ascents we were forced to walk. Some so steep that the trail had stairs so we could make our way up. Up, and up, the trail weaved, and I grew slightly tired. Finally at the top my energy rose and I could feel the end of the race in sight. On the downhills, and flats I could let my legs fly, and run. I was hopped up on caffeine and had taken enough motrin that I could ignore the pain. It was now mile 44, where I would meet my good friend Dan, who would run the remaining 6 miles with me. As soon as we left the aid station, we hit, yes another steep ascent. The race organizers weren't kidding when they rated this race the most challenging and gave it 5 out of 5 stars for elevation change. I was again reduced to walking up the immense hill. As we ran, I recounted the previous 8+ hours to Dan. Told him of the sure enjoyment of the day. My encounters with other runners, etc. Something happens to me on these adventures. I go completely outside myself, tell jokes, banter with other runners, and aid station staff, and generally have a blast. The last mile was up a gradual hill on asphalt which returned the cramping to my legs, but I pressed on and crossed the finish line some 9 hours and 45 minutes after starting.
What an amazing day. I felt euphoric. Tired, stiff but euphoric. My right hip was in agony. I made my way over the message/soft tissue therapy tent, where for the next 20 minutes a couple cute therapists began work on my hip. I just relaxed and enjoyed the treatment. Not a bad way to end the race.
After all this, it was time to get back to my flat. I had a party to get to ready host. In order to recoup quicker, Dan hooked me up with an IV of saline (see below); which was amazing. The party was fabulous, and other than some stomach issues I felt pretty good. By around 10pm I started to fade - the early morning combined with the race had taken it's toll and at 11pm I called it. Strange part was my body had a hard time relaxing as I laid in bed, but did finally fall sleep. Only to wake up at 3am some extreme hunger pain. So, up I got and made food.
I think I'll take it easy today.
01 December 2008
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